Hallowe'en Trio
by Sam C
Summary: Delicious drabble in triplicate. Three silly tales involving our favourite crewmembers. J/7, but Janeway's not quite herself...he he he


This is a work of fiction. Characters belong to Paramount.

Written with humorous intent! If you want serious writing, read my other stories – this is strictly tongue-in-cheek. I would welcome any reviews/comments. Enjoy!

**Hallowe'en Trio**

"Janeway to Seven-of-Nine. Please report to my quarters."

"Acknowledged."

Seven left her astrometric scans to their own devices and entered the corridor. A chill breeze suddenly brushed past, disturbing the calm air of the sleeping ship. The Borg made a note to check the environmental systems as soon as the Captain had finished with her.

Arriving at the Captain's quarters there was no hesitation as the blonde woman pressed a button to request entry (unlike most crew members who stood for at least a minute, plucking up the courage to call on their leader). The doors swished open and Seven stepped into the room, surprised to find it almost completely dark. A solitary candle, gothic in its design, burned in one corner, casting long shadows onto the floor and walls.

"Captain?" Seven enquired, scanning the interior. The dark was no match for her Borg-enhanced optical sensors, and she immediately ascertained that nobody was in the room. She stepped further in and the doors closed behind her. The air rippled against her skin and a movement caught her eye; a shadowy figure emerging from the bedroom.

"Seven…" a voice purred, sensuous yet black, like evil in liquid form. The figure approached soundlessly and became recognisable – well, sort of. Janeway seemed to float across the room, clad in a long, satin dress the colour of night which left little to the imagination. The younger woman watched as the Captain came closer, eyeing the delicious curves on that breathtaking body. She shook her head to clear her thoughts.

"Captain, you appear pale. Would you care for a beverage?"

"Oh, yes, Seven, but not from the replicator…"

Janeway was so close that the Borg could make out her features gleaming in the candlelight.

"Your dental arrangement has altered, Captain," Seven stated, noting the lengthened, sharpened fangs that protruded from the older woman's mouth. Janeway's hands reached out and caressed the former drone, who could not bring herself to move. Arms as strong as tritanium cable wrapped around her as Janeway – who had grown taller than Seven herself – leaned in and brushed the Borg's cheek with red, glistening lips.

"Captain, I am unsure-"

Janeway moved to Seven's mouth, the kiss urgent and penetrating, leaving the blonde's whole body tingling with what she recognised as desire. She responded as the Captain's hands slid to the fastening of her biosuit. As Seven lifted her head, she felt lips on her neck, kissing, nuzzling, then a sharp pain as Janeway's teeth sank into the smooth, exposed skin…

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Commander Chakotay peeled off his sweaty uniform and tossed it into a corner of his quarters. Despite the long duty shift he'd just finished, he didn't feel at all tired. Stepping over towards the bathroom he caught sight of himself in a full-length mirror. The tall, chunky reflection stared back at him and he grinned. Then, something caught his eye. He hardly ever needed to shave thanks to his Native American ancestry, yet there was a definite shadow on his jaw.

As the First Officer leaned in for a closer inspection, he stretched out an arm for balance, and recoiled in horror when he caught sight of it. The limb was swathed in dark grey hair, becoming thicker by the second and spreading over his entire body. Staring in the mirror, Chakotay could only watch, helpless, as he became covered in thick fur, his limbs lengthened, his ears moulded into pointed tufts and his canines grew long and sharp. His last coherent thought was to reach for his comm badge, but, no longer human, his voice came out as a series of menacing growls. Instinct took over, and he sprang out of the doors and loped off down the corridor.

Around the next corner, a turbolift gently came to a halt. Out stepped Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres, more interested in each other than their surroundings. Laughing, they kissed tenderly even as they walked. A low snarl stopped them in their tracks. Paris looked up.

"What the hell is that?!" he shouted, leaping backwards and thrusting his feisty Klingon girlfriend in front of him. Torres shook off his arms and stepped forward, assuming a battle stance.

"I've no idea, but if it attacks it'll find itself in a world of hurt." The Chief Engineer strode boldly towards the huge, hairy beast, undaunted by its vicious-looking teeth and claws. Then she stopped. Its face, though mean and pointy, looked vaguely familiar.

"Tom," she whispered, beckoning her boyfriend forward, "look at this."

"Er, no thanks, B'Elanna – I can see it quite well from here." He had backed away as she approached and now peered fearfully out from behind the turbolift entrance.

"No, really, look – it's…it's Chakotay!" She held out a hand and slowly walked within striking distance of the great creature. "I'd recognise that face anywhere. Watch." Torres gently placed her hand on a furry shoulder and the beast lowered itself onto its thick haunches. She stroked the head as though it were a pet dog, and the beast began to whine, nuzzling her hand softly. Torres laughed.

"I always knew he was a big softie inside," she chuckled, "even if he's turned into a werewolf!" Torres turned to Tom, who had sheepishly emerged from his hiding place.

"Come on, let's get him to sick bay."

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All was quiet in the Mess Hall, the last stragglers having left over an hour ago. Neelix always enjoyed this part of the day, preparing dishes for tomorrow with nobody else around. He liked conversation, true, but sometimes the others, well, got on his nerves a little. Humming lightly, the little Talaxian finished chopping vegetables and settled down on a stool to enjoy his customary evening mug of hot chocolate. As usual, his eyelids began to droop, and soon he was fast asleep, purring like a kitten.

When Neelix awoke, he felt different. Trying to move, he found that he couldn't, for neither his arms nor legs seemed to be responding. 'Well, that's odd,' he thought, pausing to check that he wasn't dreaming. Satisfied that he was indeed awake, he tried to open his mouth to call out but found that his jaw wouldn't move either, his mouth fixed in a rigid grin. 'This isn't good,' thought the Talaxian cook, starting to panic now. He struggled to move but only succeeded in turning himself around by a degree or two. Then, he caught sight of his blurry reflection in the oven door.

'Cripes and crikey, I'm a vegetable!' he thought wildly. The face that stared back at him was a ghastly cutout from a large, orange vegetable; crudely fashioned eyes, zigzag mouth with two holes for a nose. He was on the verge of full-blown hysterics when he heard the mess hall doors open. 'Thank heavens,' he thought, his nerves settling somewhat now there was someone to help him.

"Neelix," called a voice through the galley entrance. Harry Kim, Neelix recognised, a sensible young officer who was sure to know what to do. Mustering all his strength, Neelix shouted back.

"Mmmffffffmmmfffffmfmfmfm"

Harry stopped, listening carefully. He was sure he heard something, but he could plainly see that the room was empty. "Neelix?" he said again, entering the kitchen and stopping in his tracks when he saw the pumpkin sitting on the stool. Laughing, he picked it up.

"Good one, Neelix," he said, amused. "Let's put you away before you give someone a fright." He lifted the heavy vegetable and opened a cupboard door. As it closed, just the faintest sound emanated from behind.

"Mmmmfmfmfffffmmmmmffff!"

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THE END


End file.
